“I’m not finished!” Alexander shot back at the Speaker.
That earned him a stern look from the man who sat at the far end of the chamber.
“You may give way to a point of order, or refuse it. But, you will do so within the rules of the debate, Your Grace.”
“My Lord Speaker, it is quite understandable if our Scotch friend does not understand the procedures of this house. It is very different to the environment he is used to,” Deveraux said.
“I refuse the point of order,” Alexander said through clenched teeth.
“As I was saying. Children are employed, without their consent, in a variety of dangerous industries to the detriment of their health. These are, after all, the future workforce of our economy…”
“Point of order!” Devereaux called out, almost gleefully.
Alexander was aware of Sebastian stirring next to him but did not risk a glance in his direction while Deveraux was watching him. He remembered the advice his friend had given to himbefore the debate, however. It was not wise to flatly refuse to concede the floor too many times. It would serve to make the other peers think he was unwilling to allow a debate and increase the chances the bill would be voted down.
“I concede the floor,” Alexander said, sitting and unconsciously running a hand through his thick, unruly beard.
Always in the past, growing up in Glasgow, his size had been his ally. As a young boy, there had been nothing to stop the priests of the orphanage administering discipline with the belt, or the employers that he was sent out to, to be dispatched up a chimney, if he did not work as hard as they believed he should. As a youth, weak-chested from the years of chimney work though he was, he’d developed broad shoulders and a thick chest. Scars, now hidden by his expensive clothes, bore witness to the many battles he had fought in the alleys and rookeries of the South-side. Until Master Gellert had come looking for him, telling him of an inheritance in England. The death of a father long forgotten.
But here, in the House of Lords, the place where laws were debated and shaped, his size was to no avail. Deveraux need not fear the Duke of Lorchester physically. He could not be touched. And Alexander had none of the political instincts of his opponent.
I am no opponent to him. He has his backers and I stand alone. The only reason the Whigs support me is this bill happens to align with their social policies. I am not one of them. I am not one of anyone in this damned city.
“I thank His Grace for allowing a humble point of order,” Devereaux said, standing. “He will forgive me, I’m sure, if I clarify a point. The accent he carries makes the King’s English somewhat difficult to…”
“For shame!” Sebastian cried out, rising. “Let us keep our debate to matters of policy and legislation, not personal insults.”
“A purely practical matter, I can assure my Lord of Holmesley,” Deveraux replied smoothly. “There are certain standards we adhere to in this place and we risk confusion if some of us do not speak in…precise English.”
The speech and bill crumpled into a ball in Alexander’s clenched fist. He gritted his teeth behind tight lips. Cadzow sat, clamping a hand to Alexander’s arm as he did so. They were in the middle of the assembled Whig peers on the left-hand side of the room as one looked down it towards the Lord Speaker’s chair. Opposite, in rows five or six deep were the Tories. The room was lined with paintings, earning it the nickname of the Painted Chamber. It was the only room that could be salvaged from the fire that had gutted the Palace of Westminster the previous year, allowing the Lords to continue to sit in the same building at least, as they were accustomed to.
“Your point is about His Grace’s colloquialisms?” the Lord Speaker queried.
“A passing remark only. My point concerns why we are debating a matter which is surely not the province of the state. This is a country of merchants, shopkeepers, mill owners, and farmers.To deny them a plentiful source of labor would be to drive them out of business. I stand for the freedom of Englishmen to manage their affairs. And, yes, the freedom of English youths to seek gainful employment. What, otherwise, would they do? Does His Grace envision thousands of idle young people thronging our streets? I think his views have been colored by his own experiences. I believe he once worked as a chimney sweep?”
That brought a ripple of laughter and Deveraux basked in the reaction, smiling broadly. Alexander’s patience snapped. He leaped to his feet, hurling the ball of paper that had been the Bill as well as his own speech.
“Aye, I was! I was sent tae work as a young wain. No chance to educate myself or better myself. Exploited! Is that English enough for ye, ye ignorant Sassenach!”
Cadzow lowered his face into his hands as Alexander pushed through the ranks of peers seated in front of him. The Lord Speaker was on his feet calling for order and the rest of the chamber erupted in sounds of disapprobation towards the angry Duke of Lorchester. Alexander had the satisfaction of seeing a brief look of fear sweep across Deveraux’s face as he watched the angry Scotsman advance towards him. Then Cadzow caught his friend's arm, half turning him.
“Are you quite mad?” he hissed, face inches from Alexander.
“His Grace is removed from the chamber forthwith. He will leave the chamber and not return until a full apology has been givenfor this un-Parliamentary conduct!” The Lord Speaker’s voice rose over the din.
Alexander snarled in disgust and tore his arm free of Cadzow’s grip. He stalked towards the exit from the Painted Room, delivering a furious insult in pure Glaswegian dialect as he went.
Chapter 3
Bright beams of sunlight slanted through the tall drawing room windows. The walls were painted white and decorated with a tastefully curated selection of watercolor landscapes and etchings of London. Violet looked at the place settings, white cotton napkins and silver cutlery gleaming in the pure light. She smiled to herself, making an adjustment to the placing of a knife here and a glass there. The settings had been placed by servants but Violet had been the guiding hand.
She had found in her adolescence an interest in etiquette and society, recognizing how essential such knowledge would be but also finding it an absorbing subject of study. Aunt Charlotte had welcomed the interest, sharing everything she knew with her niece. That enthusiasm was made more so by the indifference shown by her own daughters, Lillian and Clara. Lillian was interested only in business and commerce, wanting to run her father’s estates and build a fortune of her own. Clara was a lover of nature and, in particular, the rearing of livestock, wishing to be the first female admitted to the Royal Veterinarian College.
“Admirable, Vi! Admirable!” George Ravendel remarked as he entered the room followed by Lillian.
The remaining two members of the Ravendel family, youngest sister Clara and mother Charlotte, had remained in Surrey at Harrington Manor, the family seat.
One day Clara will make her debut, I shall enjoy introducing her to the Ton. I hope I can make Aunt Charlotte and Uncle George proud after all they have done for me.
